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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26109076">Conference Call</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/songsformonkeys/pseuds/songsformonkeys'>songsformonkeys</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wonder Woman (Movies - Jenkins)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Soft!Dom Max</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:36:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,087</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26109076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/songsformonkeys/pseuds/songsformonkeys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Maxwell fucks you while taking a conference call. There is no plot here. Just filth.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maxwell Lord/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Conference Call</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>”I want you to wear this,” Maxwell says and gestures towards a big white box on the table. The two of you are in his penthouse apartment. It's after midnight but neither of you have clocked out from work yet because you had been forced to schedule a conference call with a rivaling company in Europe and the different timezones are a pain in anyone's ass.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maxwell isn't too happy about the arrangement but had agreed on the condition that the telephone meeting could be held in his home office. You had agreed, knowing which battles that were worth picking with Maxwell and realizing that this wasn't one of them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You had showed up with plenty of time to spare before the call, hoping that you and Maxwell would have a chance to go over the Paris proposal once more. That had been twenty minutes ago and so far the only things that have happened are that Maxwell has insisted on having a drink, has quizzed you on next week’s meetings, and now has revealed that apparently there is a dress code for the evening.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Maxwell... Mister Lord, may I remind you that it is a conference call and that the other participants won't actually be able to see us. I hardly think that a wardrobe change will be necessary,” you point out, a little annoyed at his unwillingness to focus on the task at hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maxwell sets his drink down and stands up from the barstool where he's perched. He walks over to you and steps so close that you can smell his expensive cologne. The scent reminds you of other times when he's been this close and you briefly close your eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”And may I remind you whose job it is to set the rules here. The outfit is for my benefit, not theirs, and I'm telling you that I want you to wear it.” There's no mistaking the order behind his words and you suddenly worry just what might be in that box.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Am I making myself clear?” he continues and you nod.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Crystal clear, Mister Lord,” you reply and he smirks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Good girl. Now go change and meet me in the office.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You pick up the box and head to the guestroom down the hall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As you set the box down on the bed and open it, you are immediately met by a vision of pale pink tulle and your eyebrows raise in surprise. You take the tulle garment out of the box and hold it up in front of you. It's a short, see-through, maribou robe, complete with the feather trimmings and everything. It's...angelic, for a lack of better word, and very much what you have come to learn that Maxwell appreciates.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You carefully set the gown down on the bed and return your attention to the box and the other things it contains. The next thing you pull out is a lace balconette bra in the same pink color as the gown, along with a pair of matching lace panties.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When you hold the panties up you notice there's an odd seam down the middle and... oh wait that's not a seam, but a slit. Your cheeks feel hot as you run your finger over the fabric, before setting them down and picking up the last thing that's in the box. It's another box and you can tell just from the design that it contains jewelry. When you open it you almost gasp. Resting on black velvet is an absolutely gorgeous diamond choker necklace. The symbolism of that doesn't escape you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You look at the items on the bed and don't dare to wonder how much money Maxwell has spent on this ensemble. He is, for the most part, smart about what he spends his money on, but this isn't the first set of expensive lingerie that he's bought for you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Worried about keeping him waiting for too long, you quickly slip out of your own clothes and into the ones Maxwell has provided for you, even though </span>
  <em>
    <span>clothes</span>
  </em>
  <span> might not be quite the right word for it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You look at yourself in the full-length mirror of the guestroom, and have to admit that you look good. The color suits you and you feel more at home in this than the black ones he'd bought for you last time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You debate whether or not to leave the gown open or tied closed with the silk band around the middle. You settle for tying it closed, thinking that Maxwell will probably enjoy untying that for himself. Studying your face closely in the mirror, as you fit the necklace snugly around your neck, you come to the conclusion that the lipstick you've been wearing all day doesn't quite fit with the image and you grab some paper to wipe it off, leaving your lips bare but stained slightly pink.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You take a deep breath and adjust the diamond choker just a little, before you leave the guestroom and walk towards to Maxwell's home office. The apartment isn't cold but you still feel your skin tightening into little goosebumps.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maxwell is bent over a file, reading, when you stop in the doorway. You know he knows your there by the way his hand twitches for just a fraction of a second before turning the page, but he still makes you wait for a few more seconds before looking up. He doesn't say anything as he eyes you up and down, and his face is impossible to read as always. Then he lifts his hand and beckons you over with a finger.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pushes his chair back when you reach him and a pleased smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. The relief makes your shoulders relax slightly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”They suit you. Do you like them?” he asks, pursing his lips to keep a smile in check. You nod</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Yes, Max-.” He raises an eyebrow at you. ”Yes, Mister Lord. They're beautiful. But...forgive me, I don't quite understand...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”What don't you understand, sweetheart?” he asks, reaching out to smooth a hand over your hip, pulling you another step closer. He touches the silk band tied around your middle, grabbing the end of it and slowly pulling.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”We have scheduled a conference call with Paris, in 15 minutes. There isn't any time to...” you trail off as the bow is untied and the robe falls open, revealing the rest of your lingerie to Maxwell's hungry gaze.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”I am well aware,” he says, ”And as you are well aware, Perrault and the morons he calls his team are exceptionally boring so I'm gonna need some additional entertainment.” He lets his eyes rake over you in a way that makes it perfectly clear that you are that additional entertainment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Take a seat,” he orders. He smiles at you dangerously and leans back a little further in his leather seat. You feel your cheeks heat up as you sit down on his lap. Maxwell spins the chair around and pushes it closer to the desk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”So, since you've been begging me for it all evening, let's go over what my stance on this is again, before they call,” he says, as if this is just another briefing in the office, as if you, through the slit in your panties, can't feel the fabric of his pants drag slightly against your folds every time he shifts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Well,” you begin, clearing your throat, and Maxwell reaches around you to hand you the file that you have meticulously put together for him over the past week. When you've accepted the file, Maxwell lets his hand rest halfway up your thigh, heavy and warm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Well, their offer is very generous, ” you start over, then stop, as his fingers inch a little higher.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Go on,” he says, and you can practically hear the smirk in his tone. He pulls the pink tulle out of the way so he can caress the inside of your thigh softly. This isn't the first time Maxwell has touched you, but it is the first time he's wanted you to comment on the details of a business proposal as he does so. You try and collect yourself and speak with confidence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”But I think we should be a little worried about their connection to St Petersburg. Their...uhm...their revenues have been in decline ever since la...last October.” You try to keep your voice steady but Maxwell has carefully pushed your thighs apart and is now dragging his index finger along the opening in your panties. The featherlight touch makes your voice hitch and your hands shake.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”So the offer is an attempt for them to save face?” Maxwell comments, thoughtfully, slipping his finger between your lips to stroke the hard nub of your clit. ”A way to get to sit at the table with the big boys.” You keen quietly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”What was that?” Maxwell asks, rubbing your clit a bit faster.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”I mean, yes... I'm sure that's their reasoning behind...oh... behind the proposal. But you...ah... you have been looking for a way to expand to the European market and... and this...this could provide an opportunity for you as well.” Your thighs are quivering and you're gripping the file so hard that the edges dig into your palms. You want to grab Maxwell and pull him in for a kiss, but that's a mistake you've made before and aren't dumb enough to make again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”So I'm considering it?” Maxwell says with curious hum. You have been over this several times together already and you have no doubt that he knows where he stands in all of this, but just wants to hear you say it out loud. His finger is still lazily stroking you and it feels so good. You allow yourself to lean back against him, just a little, and he lets you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”You want them to sweeten the deal,” you tell him as you feel his lips barely graze your neck. Maxwell isn't much for kissing during foreplay so it takes you a little by surprise. You continue. ”Find a way to get them to... ditch St Petersburg and we'll reap all the benefits from acc...ah...accepting this proposal.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”And we'll run St Petersburg into the ground,” he finishes for you, and you nod.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”That's an additional bonus,” you agree and Maxwell chuckles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Ruthless,” he says but his tone is appreciative.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”I thought you hired me to look out for the company, sir, not to be kind,” you can't help but comment, a little sarcastically.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Watch that smart mouth of yours,” Maxwell whispers into your ear and pulls his finger out from between your legs. He holds it up in front of your face. ”I can think of far better ways to use it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You open up as he presses the finger against your lips and you suck the digit into your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks slightly, you can taste your own arousal in the pad of his finger. You swirl your tongue around it and make a soft hum at the back of your throat because you think Maxwell will appreciate it. You let your lips move back and forth, slowly, over the ridges and knuckles of his finger. Maxwell just watches you silently.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the telephone rings a couple of minutes later, it takes you by surprise, and you start. Maxwell pulls his finger out of your mouth and wipes it on his pants. You move to stand up, but he pulls you back onto his lap, securing you in place with an arm around your waist. You can feel the hard line of his cock press against your ass.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Did I tell you you could leave?” he growls, low and dangerous, in a way that sends shivers up your spine the way this tone of voice always does.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”I'm sorry, Mister Lord,” you apologize.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maxwell picks up the phone to answer</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Perrault! Bonjour! How are things in Paris?” he greets the person on the other side, immediately dialing up the smarmy businessman persona. You hear the person on the other side mumble something in response and Maxwell laughs, loud and fake. They exchange a few more pleasantries as a couple of other people connect to the call. Maxwell is tapping his fingers against your side and you can tell that he's already bored.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You strain to hear what is being said on the other end of the call but it's difficult and Maxwell's responding hums give away little information. He's loosened his grip around your waist and is now running his fingers along the edge of your bra. Your own hands are gripping the fabric of the gown lightly. Maxwell hasn't told you what to do and as much as he appreciates you taking initiative at work, he's usually of the opposite mind in these situations.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maxwell continues to talk and you continue to sit perched on his lap, anticipation mixed with a hint of worry, building. He's pulled one of your breasts out from its lacy confines now and is absent-mindedly rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger. Every now and then he gives it a pinch and you jump slightly. You don't need to see Maxwell to know that he's smiling.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, Maxwell pats the desk in front of him and it takes you a second to realize what he wants. When you do, you stand up from his lap. Maxwell stands too and you can see his erection straining against the pants of his suit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pushes the gown off your shoulders and it falls to the floor. Then he places a hand on your chest and guides you to sit down on the desk. You do, but Maxwell keeps pushing until you are lying flat on your back across the cold and smooth surface. He stands hovering above you, phone in one hand as the other push your legs up and apart. You feel incredibly exposed but would be lying if you said there wasn't a part of you that really got off on just that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maxwell holds a finger up to his lips in warning and then, without much preamble, he reaches down and pushes that very same finger into you. You have to bite down hard on your lower lip not to gasp out loud. Maxwell pulls his finger almost all the way out before inserting another. Your brows draw together in a frown and your mouth falls open on a silent moan.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”So run that by me again, exactly what you think the benefits would be for me and my company, in this scenario of yours,” Maxwell tells the people on the phone but his eyes are locked with yours as he sets a slow pace for fucking his fingers into you. His eyes look almost pitch black from lust and as he curls his fingers slightly upward, you feel like your own eyes are about to roll to the back of your head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The speed of Maxwell's fingers steadily increase when the people on the other end of the line are talking but slow down when he makes his own replies. It's the most delicious kind of torture and you feel your pleasure building and building. You suddenly know that there is no way you will be able to stay silent when you come, and so you desperately tug at Maxwell's arm to get him to stop. But instead of pulling his fingers out or stopping, he just shifts the phone so he's holding it up against his ear with his shoulder and uses his newly freed hand to cover your mouth. You watch him with wide eyes as he sets a brutal pace with his fingers and you barely last a minute before you come so hard your vision blacks out for a moment. Maxwell's palm doesn't manage to entirely muffle your loud keen and you panic as you're sure it must have been heard on the other end of the call. The whole world is completely silent for a couple of seconds as you wait. Then there's mumbling on the phone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”What's that?” Maxwell says, looking completely unfazed as he rests a sticky hand on your stomach. You're still frozen in the spot. Maxwell chuckles, ”Oh that. Just a little kitten I'm looking after...Oh, you have a dog?... you don't say? Well, pets sure do bring a certain kind of joy to our lives, don't they? Now, will you gentlemen excuse me for just a minute so I can make sure that she is happy and won't interrupt us again? One minute.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sets the phone down on the desk and you immediately start mouthing silent apologies. He covers your mouth with his hand again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”I'm trying to work here, Kitten,” he says, keeping up appearances, in case his voice can still be heard on the phone, ”And I can't do that if you're gonna continue to mewl like this, you understand? I don't want to have to lock you out.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You nod furiously to show that you have understood. Maxwell removes his hand. He picks up the phone again and looks like he's just about to speak when a dangerous grin suddenly stretches across his face. You feel a lump of dread grow in the pit of your stomach.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Gentlemen! Sorry for the interruption...oh you are too kind!... Well as I was just saying, the proposal is not bad, but it needs some refining. Why don't I hand you over to my assistant and she can help you go over the numbers?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If you thought there was anyway you would have gotten away with running, you would have. You shake your head as Maxwell holds out the phone for you. You giving the most begging look you can muster, silently asking him not to do this. Maxwell's hand doesn't move an inch but his eyes soften a little and, in a gesture of kindness that's slightly out of character for him, he mouths </span>
  <em>
    <span>you've got this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hesitantly, you grab the phone and clear your throat, attempting to get your voice in order. Maxwell sits back down in his chair to watch you. You start to sit up but he shakes his head and you admit defeat, lying back down and holding the phone up to your ear.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Good morning, Gentlemen,” you say, in a voice that sounds more normal than it has any right to sound, considering the circumstances. You actually hear Maxwell chuckle in the background and close your eyes to shut him out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You can do this,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you tell yourself, almost echoing Maxwell's encouragement. You've gone over these numbers so many times over these past weeks that you could probably write them down in your sleep. If only you can focus on them and not the fact that you're currently spread out and mostly naked on your boss' desk then things will go just fine.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maxwell sits back and lets you do your thing, looking slightly impressed at how you're adapting to the situation. However, in true Maxwell fashion, he soon gets bored with listening in on just half a conversation and you feel his hand run up your calf, caressing it. You bite your lip as his hand goes past the knee and smooths down the outside of your thigh. You have a sneaking suspicion where this is going.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maxwell positions himself between your legs and as you listen to the accountant on the other end of the line, you lift your head slightly to meet Maxwell's gaze. He gives you a dark smile and lowers his face, just slow enough for you to brace yourself for the first touch of his tongue. You still start when it comes and Maxwell reaches up to place his hand on your stomach again, holding you in place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You brace yourself for more but his tongue is surprisingly gentle and Maxwell alternates between licking and kissing along your folds. It feels nice but it isn't enough to drive you crazy and you know he's doing it on purpose. He's keeping the touches light enough that you're still able to talk. For all his attempts at seeming threatening, Maxwell doesn't actually want you to make a fool of yourself, or him for that matter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This feels more like a reward than a punishment. Not that you have any plans on pointing that out to Maxwell, in case he's unaware.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He lets you finish up discussing details with the accountant, it’s gone well and you feel surprisingly proud of yourself, but then Maxwell impatiently stands up and motions for you to hand the phone back to him. You do and he demands to know if there are any questions regarding your counter-proposal. You hear the person on the other line begin to speak and Maxwell rolls his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Monsieur Perrault,” he interrupts, ” I can hear we're not quite in agreement on this yet. So why don't we go back to our respective teams, see what adjustments we can make and I'll have my assistant schedule another meeting in about a week? Sound good?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You hear the slightly confused mumbles of agreement on the phone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Excellent! Well, in that case, I wish you, gentlemen, a good day, and thank you for your time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maxwell just about slams the phone back on the receiver and when he turns to you, there's something feral in his eyes. Before you have time to say something, Maxwell grabs you and drags you off the desk. He spins you around so that you're standing with your back pressed against his chest. He reaches around your throat and pushes your head back so he can whisper in your ear.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”You did so well, sweetheart!” he praises and you feel pride swell in your chest, ”Their fucking incompetent excuse for an accountant didn't stand a chance against you.” He grinds his hips against you and lets out a low moan.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Bend over,” he orders and you do as you're told, leaning over the desk and resting your cheek against your forearms. You hear Maxwell get his pants open.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Gonna have them eating out of our hands by the end of next meeting,” he says as he lines himself up. Then he thrusts home and you cry out as his cock fills you up, in one rough motion. Realizing just what kind of fucking you're in for, you reach out and grab the edges of the desk to keep yourself steady. Maxwell is already gripping your hips hard and pumping into you. You gasp with each thrust. The gentleness of his tongue during the call is gone. This is him, taking what he needs. And you, willingly giving it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”So fucking good,” he praises again. You're not sure if he's commenting on your performance during the conference call or your current performance. His breathing is getting more ragged with each thrust.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maxwell leans over you and presses his lips against your shoulder. It's not quite a kiss but right now you don't care because he's fucking you senseless and that's enough. Enough to have a second wave of pleasure crash over you as you come, clenching hard around Maxwell's cock.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maxwell's thrusts are becoming erratic. He says something against your shoulder that you can't quite hear through your daze of pleasure.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”What?” you gasp as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Tell me you love me!” It's more of an order than a request but right now you are willing to give him anything he wants so it doesn't matter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”I love you...” you pant, ”I love you, Maxwell”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That's all it takes and in the next second Maxwell presses his face hard against your back and comes, deep inside you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He holds you through his orgasm, lingers for only a few moments after before standing up and pulling out, leaving you feeling empty. He tucks himself back into his pants and picks the robe up from the floor and hands it to you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”You know where the bathroom is,” he says, voice a little distant, ”Go clean yourself up. And it's late so if you want to you can spend the night.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You nod and thank him, not quite able to meet his eyes before you walk towards the bathroom on shaky legs. Maxwell calls your name before you reach the door and you turn back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”...My bedroom is the third one on the left... just so you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>